This Precious Room
by Singing Muse
Summary: For eighteen years, he had been filling her bedroom with everything he thought a princess would want. Now that she had return, would she even like it? Father-daughter time between the King and Rapunzel because I think they need it!


**Notes: Well, it's been a while since I've submitted anything. And what do I submit? A **_**Tangled**_** story? What can I say? When I feel like writing, I don't care what the subject may be. To make long story of fiction reading short, I basically felt that stories between the King and Rapunzel was lacking and I needed to fill the void. So here you go.**

_Disclaimer: Tangled belongs to Disney…so there._

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From the day she was born, he had been filling that room with everything a little girl could want. Porcelain dolls in silk dresses, golden riding horses on silver rockers, bright colorful balls that bounced from floor to ceiling. Every book case was stuffed to its limit, producing stories of high adventure and articles on the history of the countries from sea to shining sea. He even had a swing installed in the center of the room, in hopes that one day the child he prayed for and loved so much would cheer and shout out as she flew across the room.

No one can blame him, then, if he kept that treasure trove of a room pristine for eighteen eternally long years. He commanded the room to be scrubbed and dusted just as if the lost princess was home. If there was a even a speck of dust found in the corner of that room, the King would curse and rave about before stumbling to his knees and letting out an agonizing sob. The sight was such a heart breaking image that no maid, young or old, would let that room go neglected. The floor were waxed once per week, the dresses in the closet washed or removed when it looked as if they were growing old, and the flowers were always replaced, regardless of if it was the dead of winter or not.

This was his daughter's room and, God be damned, it would be until the day she returned or he died waiting for her.

That being said, the royal Majesty, King Leonardo—Leo by close friends—didn't particularly feel excited to show his, now teenage, daughter that childlike haven which he had been adorning for her all this time. It wasn't a room for a full grown princess, not at all, and he couldn't help but sweat a gallon or two as he lead Rapunzel towards the room. It had only been a day since she had returned, this bright eyed, beautiful young woman with the infamous thief Flynn Rider—which he would personally have a word or two with later—by her side. Neither him nor Rebecca—his lovely wife—knew what to expect when they had released her to explore the palace. Would she be sad? Would she be scared? Would she try to break something out bottled up anger and spite? What would a child, kidnapped for years by a witch, do after being returned to her parents? Could they be prepared if she acted out and cried?

They had nothing to fear. With her smitten thief-turned-future suitor in toe, she raced down all the hallways, up all the staircases, and leaned out all of the windows with her arms spread out above her head like she could fly. It was as if someone had unlocked the door to her cage and she was finally allowed to breathe fresh air; and later that night, when his daughter had tired herself out to the point of taking a nap on his study carpet, Leo found that's exactly what had happened.

Rapunzel was a girl naïve to everything around her but willing to learn and grasp any challenge that came her way. That, however, didn't stop the internal fear the King felt as he wrapped his hands around the knobs of the large doors in front of him, prepared to show his daughter her rightful room. Would she like it? Would she laugh at it? Would she nervously pace around it, lying to avoid the sadness that it would bring him if she said otherwise? For once, Leo didn't know if he was ready for something.

"Father?" The word was hesitant and uneasy as it floated to his ear, waking him from his weighing thoughts. A small hand of delicate skin tapped against his back, barely being felt underneath all the heavy fabrics he was forced to wear all day, ever day. His daughter spoke up again, more confidence in her voice, "Are you alright?"

In all honesty, Leo would have felt better if Rapunzel had called him 'Papa', like all the other little princesses would call their fathers when they were guests in the castle. Then again, those princesses hadn't been gone for almost two decades and he shouldn't expect instant familiarity from his child just yet, no matter how much he wished it. Taking a small breath, Leo turned back to his daughter, her wondering eyes giving him all the strength he needed. Those eyes, after all, were the very same that he had fallen in love with on the day of her birth.

"Yes, dearheart. I was just thinking if you would like my present to you." He answered her; pushing open the doors to the sun brighten paradise of eighteen years waiting. The King stepped to the side to let Rapunzel through, his hands gripped on the handle for the extra leverage he may need.

The chestnut girl flattered into the extravagant bedroom, awe pouring from every inch of her. At first she said nothing, her vision and feelings attempting to understand all the items and decorations. Ribbons of pink, purple, and gold hung from the canapé bed which was as soft and fluffy as the freshly baked vanilla cake she had been served last night. Soon, Rapunzel was spinning about the room in amazement, laughing all the way in joyous excitement that threatened to explode from her very being.

And Leo couldn't contain his happiness at her smiling face.

The princess, after a while of exploring her new private room, looked back to her father and, hands clasped over her heart, asked; "Is this all for me?"

Leo was a kind king, but a man made out of stone, nonetheless. He had stood, face still and mouth pursed, as countless criminals were executed for their crimes — one of them would have been a certain Flynn Rider if he hadn't returned some special cargo, but that is another story. He was no-nonsense and he did not take joking when it came to state affairs. Yet nothing in the world, not even his perfectly adored wife, could bring him to tears faster then Rapunzel.

Arms flying outward, neither father nor daughter needed to speak as Rapunzel flung herself into his chest and hung off his neck. He held back his sobs and hugged his daughter—his little girl, his _baby_—tighter then anything else in the world and spun her around. All the gold, jewels, and alliances in the world could not compare to Rapunzel and this moment. She was priceless to him.

"Thank you so…so much." She muttered into his neck, her cheeks wet with tears. She had been given so many things by Gothel over the years. Paints, fabric dolls, flowers, and anything else she wanted. Nothing had ever oozed with the amount of _love_ and _wanting_ and _gentleness_ that came from this room. And it was all for her.

It was absolutely wonderful, wasn't it?

Grips were slacking and Rapunzel found herself back on the floor, her cheeks stained and red, but her smile spread so wide that it made her face swore. Leo, underneath a thick mustache, smiled back and wiped a stray tear off his beloved child's cheek.

After all the silence and staring, the King was not expecting the following sentence, "Do you know what this place needs?" Rapunzel asked eagerly, a new idea burning in her mind. Leo was utterly stumped—he had missed something after all these years?—but was amused, all in all. "No, do you mind filling me in?"

The chestnut pixie haired flower of a girl threw her arms up in the air and yelled, "Art!"

Leo was not expecting what would take place for the next few hours.

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When Queen Rebecca and the newly reformed 'Eugene' was done pondering what was taking the King—who was never late—and Rapunzel—who would probably never miss a feast—so long to show up for dinner, the two went searching for their lost companions down the palace corridors. When they managed to locate the two, however, they were not ready to find the sight they did.

Perched on the swing in the center of room sat the King with his daughter curled up on his lap in a deep slumber. The two were covered from head to toe in a mixture of colors; even their hair was an odd tint of reds and purples. Fine paints and brushes littered the floor and the bed, dropped and neglected when they were worn out from use.

Behind them, furniture had been pushed out of the way and on to the open balcony to clear the walls. Half of the once baby pink hue was now covered in drawings that reached up to the ceiling. Beautiful girls with short brown hair danced over suns, moons, and stars, always with a stick figure man holding her hands and leading the way. He held out flowers for her to take and smiled a crooked smile in an odd sort of way.

Evidently, the King was no artist, especially compared to his multi-talented daughter, and was embarrassed when he first painted the jagged stick man next to her glowing girl in bright pink.

Rapunzel had smiled when he had extended a line that looked like the stick man was reaching for her hand and told him that she had always wanted some one to draw with her. The statement had proceeded to break his creaking heart in two but encouraged him to press on until he could no longer move his hands and Rapunzel had told him that this had been enough for the day.

He wasn't sure how the two of them had ended up on the swing, but he wasn't going to move from the spot until his daughter was good and ready to. Exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open, Leo was able to catch one last thing before he leaped off to pleasant dreams.

"Good night, Papa."

God bless Rebecca and Eugene, for they had no heart to neither wake nor move the two from their newly formed world and chose to, instead, close the door and let them be. There was plenty time for turkeys the size of the chef's head to eat; the King and his daughter were making up for all the years lost between them.

They would need to call in for more paint in the morning. This precious room still had a long way to go.


End file.
